THE BERLIN WAGNER FESTIVAL EASTER 2002 - Report by
Dr John Casey
Forty of us joined our President Barbara McNulty to spend 14 days
in Berlin over Easter to hear all 10 of Wagner's operas that are regularly
performed. Another opera Rienzi gets an occasional outing but
the other 2 of his operatic output of 13 operas are rarely revived.
The presentation of all 10 mature operas in the one festival had been
done only once before —in Berlin in the early 30's.
The particular feature of this Festival was Daniel Barenboim being
sole conductor now in his 10th year at the Staatsoper (as well as
Musical Director of the Chicago Symphony). The other feature was that
all operas were produced by Harry Kupfer who had just retired from
Berlin's Komische Oper. One critic called the festival a great farewell
party. The productions we saw had already been mounted on many stages
many times - some described as rehashed versions of recycled ideas
- so the productions were familiar to many in the audience but novel
to most of the Australian contingent. I report then as a layman on
my first impressions without any foreknowledge or bias.
We were at times astonished at some of Kupfer's interpretations,
as I will describe. Considerable head shaking came at the end of our
first opera Der fliegende Holländer, which was the newest
production. The drama takes place in Senta's mind. She is on centre
stage at the focus of attention throughout the action at the top of
a spiral staircase. From this perch she observes all the action, even
locations far away, and interacts on some occasions. Senta imagines
a heroic ship's captain befriended at sea by her father and destined
for redemption by her love. In her mind she and the Dutchman have
expressed eternal devotion, but her father brings her to earth by
presenting in the flesh a dowdy, drab character like him. Him she
cannot accept. The Dutchman of her imagination was young, virile,
long-haired with a full-length red leather greatcoat - such a contrast
with her father's gray guest. She dies not in a heroic gesture of
self-sacrifice, but in deep despair. Senta was Anne Schwanewilms and
the Dutchman was Falk Struckmann - the alternate Wotan, but we never
heard these singers again in our cycle.
In cool afternoon sunshine we set off for the 4pm start of Tannhäuser
next day that presented outstanding singing from the American tenor
Robert Gambrill (who later starred as Siegmund and Parsifal). There
was a drab static chorus of pilgrims carrying gray suitcases and a
grand piano featured in the singing contest as the token anachronism.
Applause broke out for the outstanding presentation of the hymn-like
Ode to the Evening Star by Roland Trekel as Wolfram. My enjoyment
was spoiled by the unsatisfactory staging of Act 3 where there was
no clear sign of Tannhäuser's absolution before his seemingly
pointless death: no messenger from Rome, no sprouting staff etc.
We had a particular reason to look forward to the next night's
Lohengrin since the lead was taken by an Australian whom we
had already seen as Erik in the Dutchman, Stuart Skelton. He was singing
the title role of Lohengrin in another German opera house and substituted
for the advertised tenor Johan Botha from South Africa whom you will
remember from last year's Opera Australia production of Andrea
Chenier. As a cover, Skelton had little problem taking on the
acting part since in this production he was confined to a kind of
mobile pulpit featuring a neon cross largely obscured by a screen.
The former Rockdale opera tenor was in very good voice. Later, at
the stage door he confided that because he was at all times hidden
from the audience and not required to interact with other characters,
he could concentrate on Barenboim's beat and direction, a huge advantage
for a young tenor singing his first Lohengrin in Berlin. Barenboim
should remember him not only for helping out at short notice but also
for filling the role so well.
Waltraud Meier played one of her four major roles in the Festival
as Ortrud, but once again the production provided a puzzling conclusion.
Elsa's brother Gottfried was not restored after Lohengrin's farewell
though Lohengrin had sung of his inheriting the ring, horn and sword.
We were led to conclude that Elsa was responsible for her brother
Gottlieb's murder and Ortrud and Telramund seemed not to be the traditional
nasties. In some kind of brain storm at the start of the opera Elsa
had hallucinated the presence of Lohengrin, the Swan King, who is
shown as a silent young male dancer bearing a swan's wing to replace
his right upper limb. There was no wedding, no bedding: just the voice
of Lohengrin coming from a hazy figure in the background. Elsa was
Emily Magee of striking appearance and a good actress seen later as
Eva in Die Meistersinger.
Then we had a break to prepare the stage and us for the Ring that
Wagner described as a festival play to be heard in a festival atmosphere
that offered no distraction.
The curtain for Das Rheingold rose to reveal not a river,
but the trunk and branches of an enormous misshapen tree filling the
stage. The Rhinemaidens and Alberich darted over and between the branches
with the hoard of gold just a suggestive glow in the background. The
gods were introduced as quirky characters. John Tomlinson as Wotan
acted with the excitement of a first home-buyer, and Fricka as the
wife wondering how they were going to pay for it. The very athletic
Graham Clark played Loge with strong voice and subtle comedy that
he later broadened as an ingratiating Mime in Siegfried. Alberich
(Gunter van Kannen) was very hirsute and very ugly, eventually brandishing
the gold as a knuckle-duster ring. The giants were suitably lumbering
in very high platformed boots and iron claws. There was no rainbow
bridge, just a wall of fluorescent tubes that parted to allow the
procession of the gods. The lovestruck Fasolt was our first experience
of the bass baritone Rene Pape, a crowd favourite who shone in many
support roles throughout the festival. He is undoubtedly destined
for stardom.
Next day was Good Friday but to keep the sequence of the Ring
we heard Die Walküre instead of the traditional Parsifal.
Waltraud Meier and Robert Gambrill acted very well as the lovestruck
siblings and Waltraud Meier came on again in Act 2 as Fricka to replace
the scheduled singer. She lowered her voice closer to the mezzo range
for Fricka and earned an ovation after her reappearance as Sieglinde
in Act 3. With the most thrilling of all vocal music after she becomes
aware of her pregnancy, she joins Brünnhilde sung by Deborah
Polaski. We remembered her as Electra from the Sydney Festival performance
at the Capitol a few years ago conducted by Simone Young. Polaski
is blonde, statuesque with a most attractive profile. Meier and Polaski
seemed to share the crowd's favour and in fact alternated roles of
Isolde and Kundry in the two successive cycles of the festival. I
thought Polaski was a bit hesitant at the start - surely not nervous!
However her voice became much more secure as the role progressed and
by the time we reached Siegfried her voice was strong and well focused
to justify her reputation as one of Europe's leading Brünnhildes.
Christian Franz coped well with the role of Siegfried, acting with
boyish charm and great agility in the forging scenes, but he hardly
seemed heroic in form or feature. He was positively playful when following
the forest bird that was actually a colourful mechanical toy manipulated
from an overhanging tree by the Wanderer. Everyone wonders about the
dragon when reporting on Siegfried. On this occasion his presence
was marked by smoke and flashing lights with the floor shifting as
he made his approach but we spotted neither head nor tail. In the
orchestral interlude of Siegfried's journey on the Rhine we really
appreciated as never before the rich orchestral sounds and Barenboim's
vigour. To my ears the orchestral sound was generally overloud, but
there was a simple explanation. Our group was generally seated in
the first five rows of the stalls and I had probably never been so
close to an orchestra of 120 musicians playing from an open area,
not at all muffled by a pit. The singing of Christian Franz and Deborah
Polaski in the last act satisfied our expectations with Christian
Franz still sounding fresh after all his earlier endeavours.
In Götterdämmerung, the Norns seemed to be sewing
loops of incandescent spaghetti. Siegfried entered the world of humans
to meet Gutrune, his first normal woman. She was a Carol Lombard lookalike
in a blonde wig and silk sheath dress with a fox fur, but we thought
her no match for Polaski's Brünnhilde. It needed a magic potion
to turn Siegfried's head. Though there was funeral music, there was
no funeral march. Siegfried's corpse was left lying on the floor where
it had been brought suspended in a net between poles. Then it lay
on a catafalque like the War Memorial in Martin Place. There was no
funeral pyre but the cremation occurred in a pit so that Brünnhilde's
immolation was simply a small step out of sight, in no way as dramatic
as Tosca's final leap. There was some amusing stage business when
the smoke machine appeared to get out of control and not only the
stage but also the auditorium was filled with smoke. Brünnhilde
continued to sing without visual cues until the smoke settled but
one of the French horn players choked and his strangled notes caused
a ripple of amusement, like laughter in church.
Tristan und Isolde presented an imaginative set. All the action
took place on the spine and the outstretched wings of a broken statue
of a fallen angel-could it be the Angel of Death? There was nothing
at all in any act to suggest a ship, an island, a garden or a lookout.
Waltraud Meier at the peak of her powers presented a superb Isolde
but the Tristan of Christian Franz (the earlier Siegfried) was hardly
her equal. Rene Pape again almost stole the show as King Mark with
his sturdy bass and great stage presence.
Die Meistersinger was probably the major disappointment. The
staging was so much less effective than our own Bicentennial production
in the Opera House sponsored by the German Government in 1988. A memorable
detail at the start of the orchestral introduction was the curtain
falling to the stage (not rising or parting) to reveal basically one
multistoried set to represent not only the church in Act 1 but also
the domestic scenes of Act 2. This was obviously economic but inadequate.
The rowdy night at the end of Act 2 was much better presented in Sydney,
especially the sudden restoration of order before the nightwatchman's
return. The casting of Francisco Araiza as Walther seemed inappropriate:
a short, black-haired Latin amongst the Nuremberg gentry - such a
contrast to the blonde Eva of Emily Magee. His voice failed the prize
song and at his curtain call he was greeted by loud sustained booing
which I had never heard before. It was repeated when he gamely reappeared
alone a second time. The festival scene of Act 3 was a wonderful riot
of choreography, massed voices, and processions of children, animals
and grotesques all exhilarated by a stupendous orchestral sound from
an augmented brass section. This included 4 trumpeters on stage dressed
as clowns in green and white!
We had seen the 1992 Kupfer version of Parsifal in video at
a Society meeting so I was prepared for the succession of great metal
walls sweeping across the stage. Their mirrored surface reflected
scenery to suggest the trees and meadows of the Good Friday music
and the walk into the hall of Montsalvat. The flower maidens appeared
only as faces in a hill of colour television sets with Parsifal darting
from one to the other. Deborah Polaski appeared as Kundry in very
little clothing but failed to seduce Parsifal. The interaction of
Gurnemanz, (Tomlinson) Kundry (Polaski) and Parsifal (Gambrill) was
most touching before the climactic final scene where the grail was
displayed at the pointy end of a structure like a surf ski that appeared
from stage right.
As I hope to convey, the glory of the Festival was the music
and, with few exceptions, the singing. Some details of the staging
were often a distraction, even a disappointment, but we were able
to experience the art of Harry Kupfer at the end of his long career.
He made a stage appearance with Barenboim at the end of Parsifal.
From the audience there were a few hearty boos, but overwhelming applause.
The Festival was a great financial success. It had received
no subsidy at all from government sources. It attracted 71% of its
audience from out of town, 51% were from overseas including the 96
from Australia labelled the Wagneroos! One advantage of such a Festival
is the presentation of leading cast members almost like repertory.
Thus we had Waltraud Meier as Ortrud, Sieglinde and Isolde. Robert
Gambrill as Tannhäuser, Siegmund and Parsifal, John Tomlinson
as Wotan, Hagen and Gurnemanz and Deborah Polaski as Brünnhilde
and Kundry.
There was no modern dress in the productions, but anachronisms
galore, such as the suitcases and grand piano in Tannhäuser,
and the industrial fan and wind tunnel in Siegfried.
I am sure there were members of our audience who stayed in
Berlin and repeated the cycle later in April. I will have to wait
longer for my next Ring cycle and maybe some of you will be with me.
[This is a copy of the address given at the Annual Luncheon of the
Wagner Society in NSW Inc on Sunday, 26 May 2002, by Dr John Casey.]
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